


What the Hell Is the Catch?

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy gets tickets to take his AP US History kids to Hamilton, and Clarke figures he's going to need a chaperone. She's happy to help out. And if he says she owes him for it? Totally worth it.





	

"So," says Clarke. "Hamilton."

Bellamy doesn't look up from his desk. "What about it?"

"I heard you got tickets."

"Wow, word travels fast."

"I've got ears everywhere."

He snorts. "So, Octavia told you."

"Octavia might have told me," she grants.

He writes a B+ at the end of the comments on the paper he was grading and looks up at her. His glasses are sliding off his nose, which she wishes she hadn't noticed.

Bellamy Blake is--annoying. He's annoying for a lot of reasons, including his arrogance, his stubbornness, his stupid smirk, his willingness to argue over everything, and, honestly, how ridiculously hot he is on top of all that. He is a nightmare with enragingly soft curls and brown eyes.

And she is actually incapable of leaving him alone. He's a scab she can't stop picking.

To make everything worse, Lincoln is dating his sister, and Clarke _likes_ his sister, which means she sometimes sees him socially, where he wears tight t-shirts and drinks craft beers and still bickers with her all the time. 

Unfortunately, she's into bickering too. Stupid Bellamy.

"So, are you here to congratulate me or what?" he asks.

"I figure you need chaperones. I thought I'd offer. Do you a solid."

"Uh huh," says Bellamy. "Selfless. You're a real Samaritan."

"Do you or do you not need a female chaperone?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah, I definitely do," he says. "Since it's been about half an hour since I got the tickets, it's not like I had a chance to go looking or anything. But let's not act like this is a favor for _me_. I really wouldn't have trouble finding someone to tag along. There are female history teachers, you know. Ones who also want to go to Hamilton."

"Then they should have gotten tickets. I don't have an excuse."

"Just say you want to study the set design. That's an art thing, right? You could make it work."

"Come _on_ , Bellamy. I'm the one who told you about it in the first place. And Octavia told me you got tickets, so you know how she's going to be if you don't let me come."

"Wow. Threatening me with my sister. That's low." He loosens his tie and leans back in his chair, watching her. "I'm not saying no. I'm just saying we need to acknowledge what's happening here. I'm going to let you chaperone, and you're going to owe me. Not the other way around. Deal?"

It feels more formal than Clarke would have expected, like she's making some sort of blood oath. On the other hand, it's Hamilton, and it's _Bellamy_. For all his faults, he's not going to lord this over her in any way that she'll actually hate. Just in the normal, endearingly douchey ways. 

"Deal," she says, and offers her hand for him to shake. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Always," he agrees. "I'll keep you posted."

*

There's a pretty long lead time between getting Hamilton tickets and using Hamilton tickets, and the knowledge that they're doing this thing she's going to owe him for _next November_ creates this weird connection between herself and Bellamy that Clarke isn't sure she approves of.

"Another weird connection, you mean," Lincoln says, when Clarke mentions it to him.

"We don't have a weird connection."

"Well, there's Octavia."

"You're the one who's dating her. Do _you_ have a weird connection with Bellamy?"

"Incredibly," he says, deadpan. But then he sobers. "I do, actually. It was very awkward to be working with him, at first. You remember. He's never been my biggest fan."

"It's not personal," Clarke points out. "He likes you, he just doesn't like Octavia dating. Because of his own issues."

"Ah, yes. That's one of your many weird connections with Bellamy," he notes. "I don't presume to understand so much of his psychology."

"No one can hate you. You're unhateable. So it's got to be on him. Simple logic."

"I don't think that's it."

"You think you're an asshole?"

"I think you understand Bellamy better than I ever have or ever will," says Lincoln. "Which is a different issue."

"Well, I don't understand what he's doing _now_. I owe him a favor. He's supposed to collect."

"Most people don't actually track these things. They say _I owe you one_ and assume it's the kind of thing that will be resolved over the course of a normal friendship."

"We don't have a normal friendship," Clarke says. "And this is _Bellamy_. There's no way he isn't keeping score. He's going to cash in on this. There's no way he's not."

"Yes. Because of your many weird connections." Lincoln rubs his face. "As much as I prefer to not interfere, especially with you and my girlfriend's brother, I still think you'd feel better if you just had sex with him."

"Maybe for a minute or two," she says, and then reconsiders. "Probably at least half an hour, knowing him. He's probably pretty good in bed. But then it would be awkward after."

"I'm glad you've thought about how long Bellamy would be able to pleasure you," he says. "I wish you hadn't told me, but I did start it. And I assumed you'd do it more than once."

"I doubt it," says Clarke. "And we're coworkers. So even if he was interested, it's not like anything could _happen_. Half an hour of fun and then another weird connection." She pauses. "Also, it would be really creepy if he asked to sleep with me as the favor I owe him, so it would be creepy if I offered too. I'm not selling myself for Hamilton tickets."

"No, but I assume you would have," he points out.

She pauses to think it over. "I don't think it would have come to that," she says. "I could afford them. I'd just rather not."

"I always enjoy the hierarchy of things you'll do. You'd rather pay for Hamilton tickets than do something unsavory to get them, but getting tickets from Bellamy isn't unsavory enough to be worse than buying them."

"It's not _unsavory_. I'm chaperoning. It's going to be fun. I like the AP history kids."

"And Bellamy." He sighs. "I think you should just talk to him like a normal person, but I know you won't. So I advise minimizing awkwardness and making sure it doesn't get weird with Octavia. For my sake."

"I'm not going to make anything weird," she says, but even she doesn't really believe it.

*

"Okay, what do you want?" she asks Bellamy, finally, in desperation. It's Friday and they're out for drinks with Lincoln, Octavia, Miller from the math department, and his techie boyfriend. It's a good, normal social setting.

And it's been two months since Bellamy gave her the chaperone position, and he hasn't said anything. So she's willing to make it weird.

He looks down at his half-finished beer. "I'm good with this for a while. Why are you buying me a drink? Are you trying to hit on me?"

"For the Hamilton tickets, asshole," she says. "What do you want from me?"

"Oh. Haven't decided yet."

It's reassuring, honestly, and Clarke thinks about their _weird connections_ again. Plenty of people, she'd just let it go, assuming it wasn't a big deal. But Bellamy remembers this stuff. She's glad he's working on it.

She orders a cider and settles in next to him at the bar. "No?"

"Hamilton tickets are pretty great. That's a lot of favors to make up for it."

"Okay, but it's not actually Hamilton tickets," she points out. "There are strings. I'm going with you and a bunch of kids and I'm working as an actual authority figure. You don't get to count this as you just giving me Hamilton tickets."

"So you're valuing these at a lower rate because I'm going to be there?"

"More the kids," she says, and he smirks. "I assume I don't have to worry you're going to skip the second act to hook up in the bathroom."

"I can hook up any time. No way I'm missing Hamilton for that."

She snorts. "Yeah, there we go. I'm just saying, chaperoning a Hamilton field trip isn't the same as going to Hamilton. If we're talking payback."

"Yeah, okay." He takes a long swig of beer. "So what were you thinking? Do you have going rates figured out? I could use some guidance here. Don't want to make unrealistic demands."

"I guess it depends on what kind of favors you need. I could cover your classroom during free periods for a year, no questions asked."

"You always cover my class during free periods no questions asked. You're just saying that because I almost never need it."

This is true, but it hadn't actually occurred to her. She knew she sometimes covered his room, but it comes up rarely and she knows he wouldn't ask her unless he really needed it. 

"Do you have summer or weekend stuff you need help with?" she asks. "Helping out on other field trips is actually a pain. Especially on my off time."

"Yeah, that's true." He taps his chin. "I do have some stuff going on. I could use helpers. I hate getting parent volunteers."

"I don't know why I'm making suggestions for this," she says, and he grins.

"You hate owing me and you're worried about what I'll come up with on my own."

There's no point in denying it. "So I'll help you out on a field trip--"

"Three," he says.

" _Three_? Do you even have three things this summer?"

"Weekends too."

"Yeah, but _three_? For--"

"Hamilton tickets," he reminds her, and she sighs. 

"Three field trips on days off. And we're even."

Bellamy clinks his bottle against her glass. "Thanks for the assist, Ms. Griffin."

*

"So, you're paying him back by spending more time with him. On three separate occasions," Lincoln says.

"Yeah. But then we're done," she says.

He does not look impressed. "Of course. Then you're done."

*

"Here."

Clarke blinks, looks down to see Bellamy offering her a paper cup. It's 6:42 on a Saturday, and she doesn't think her right eye has come into full focus yet. It never does before seven. She doesn't know why she became a teacher.

"What?"

"Coffee. I don't want you passing out on me."

"Thanks," she says, and takes a delicate sip. It's heavy on milk and light on sugar, just how she likes it. Her next sip is more confident, and she sees Bellamy hide a smile in his own cup.

"You know where we're going?" he asks.

"Peabody Essex Museum, right?"

"Yeah. There's a Roman sculpture exhibit, so I'm taking the mythology club. And then after lunch we're going to the MFA, since we're in the neighborhood."

It's Clarke's turn to hide a smile; she asked about the mythology club once, and Octavia said that Bellamy actually _founded it_ when he was a student here, and has kept it alive basically through the force of his own stubbornness. It's one of her favorite factoids.

"How many kids?"

"Fifteen. I probably could have handled it alone, but since you were offering--"

She rolls her eyes. "Offering, yeah."

"You asked me what I wanted you to do. Besides, you'll be good to have along. Art museums. You can tell us about the--" He waves his hand vaguely. "Art stuff."

"And you tell us about the myth stuff?"

"Teamwork," he says. "Head's up."

It's the first of the students, and Clarke stands up straighter and manages to look like an adult who is at least slightly responsible and awake. It's about two and a half hours to Salem, so their goal is to leave at seven and arrive by ten, and then they've got a few hours at the museum, lunch, a few more hours at the MFA. Aside from it being way too early on a Saturday, Clarke is honestly pretty excited for the trip. She loves museums.

She greets the kids she knows as they show up, but she mostly just hangs out by Bellamy, quietly caffeinating. Everyone arrives on time--early even--and she wonders if it's a sign that everyone who willingly joins Bellamy's club is as much of a nerd as he is. She hopes so.

"Morning, everyone," Bellamy says, once he's done a head count. "The bus should be here in a couple minutes. Everyone know Ms. Griffin?" There's murmured assent, and he nods. "Cool. She's here to teach us about all the artistic symbolism stuff I'll miss. If you have a problem or need anything, come to me or her. You know the drill. We're doing the Peabody Essex Museum, lunch, and then the MFA. Any questions?"

"How much did you pay Ms. Griffin to get her to wake up this early?" asks Eli. He's a senior and she's known him since his freshman year; he hangs out in the art room a lot when he has free periods. Like most of the students who spend any significant amount of time with her, he knows exactly how much she likes early mornings.

She raises her cup. "Coffee. I assume there's more where this came from."

"Keep telling yourself," says Bellamy. "I'm not going to assign you guys seats on the bus, so just don't be too loud. I need my beauty sleep."

It's one of the small buses, but there are still enough seats that almost everyone could have their own. So Clarke's surprised when Bellamy claims the two front seats, but puts his stuff on the one and asks if he can sit with her on the other.

"Only if you take the window," she says.

"You don't like the window?" he asks, dubious.

"I don't like leaning against the side of the bus. It's cold."

"It's _May_ ," he says, and Clarke shoves him into the seat and joins him on the aisle. 

"Happy?" she asks. She kind of is, honestly. It's not _that_ warm yet, and Bellamy is like a furnace by her side. For some reason, he always seems warmer than other people, and he always smells good. It's nice to have an excuse to be close.

"Nope. You're right, it is cold, I want to switch seats."

"Too late," she says. "You're the one who wanted to sit with me."

"I get bored," he says. "I don't want to have to yell across the aisle to talk to you."

It's not like he has anyone else to talk to, so it shouldn't be shocking, but it's still--a lot. She knows Bellamy likes her, sort of. She always sort of assumed he liked her in spite of himself, in an absent way. It's nice to have him asking to spend time with her.

That reminds her of Lincoln, telling her to fuck him, and she pulls her thoughts away from _that_ before she's even fully processed it. She's not interested in Bellamy, and Bellamy's not interested in her, and they're on a bus full of students. 

"How are classes going?" he asks, once they're moving. It's gruff, a little awkward, but in a way that makes her smile. Bellamy sucks at small talk, but he's trying.

"Everyone's a lot happier now that APs are done," she says. "I assume that's true for you guys too."

"God, it's the best," he says, with such genuine feeling that she laughs, and the conversation flows from there, easy as anything. Even when they're out together, they tend to be kind of combative, and she can't tell if he's being nice because he appreciates her coming on the trip, or just because he'd like to be nice, like she would.

Either way, it's a good ride, and she's almost sad when it's over, which is not a feeling she's familiar with when she's getting off a school bus. School buses are the worst.

Of course, once they get off the bus, they're at a museum, and that's also great. All the mythology club kids are old enough that they're pretty okay wandering around on their own, checking out the exhibits and asking questions if they have them. Bellamy came up with a scavenger hunt of mythological figures to find, based on the exhibit guide online, and he makes sure everyone is always in the same room, but he's hands-off aside from that, and Clarke follows his lead, letting the kids come to them when they want.

Strangely enough, she realizes she's never really seen Bellamy with students before. It's not like she has any reason to be in his classes; the staff room is near his classroom, which is why she's occasionally watched students when he has to step out, but they're never around at the same time. She sees him at events sometimes, shooting the shit, but she tries not to hang out with him too much, preferring Lincoln, who feels safer.

And she was right; it's completely unsafe to see Bellamy like this, chatting with kids, joking around, relaxed and easy and _good_. Obviously she knew he was a good teacher. She never doubted. But as she knew it would be, it's a disaster to witness it.

Almost worse is the way he watches her, a prickling awareness on her skin as she answers questions about why an artist would have included a detail or why the baby looks so weird, the certain knowledge that he's listening and interested and likes seeing her like this. That he finds her knowledge cool and worthwhile.

_I hate you_ , she texts Lincoln at lunch, like this is somehow his fault. Like she hadn't known she thought Bellamy was hot before he brought it up. Like it isn't obvious to basically anyone with more than a passing interest in men that Bellamy is amazingly good-looking. 

Like she didn't know he was more than just attractive.

_I'm glad you're having fun_ , Lincoln responds, and Clarke doesn't bother answering.

Back on the bus after the MFA, Bellamy slides into the window seat without comment, and raises his eyebrows at Clarke, like he's daring her to take another seat. 

"I bet the window gets cold when it gets dark," she says, when she sits next to him, a little too close, and he grins.

"Yeah, I bet it does."

*

Bellamy's next two requests are more difficult, because he wants help on summer events, and those involve _set-up_. In the heat. In summer. He's the faculty sponsor for the rising junior class, and apparently his student government kids are very gung-ho about getting started on fundraising for their class funds. Bellamy bemoans it sometimes when they see each other at the bar, because even though he's as uninvolved as he possibly can be, he has trouble actually motivating himself to dissuade them from their go-getting. He knows he should support it, even if he wants to be catching up on all the video games he missed over the school year.

His halfhearted grumbling is also cute, and Clarke would be lying if she said she wasn't a little happy to have an excuse to see him more, given it's summer, and Octavia and Lincoln are going out of town for the month of August, which means she and Bellamy will actually have to make contact with each other and plan something themselves if they want to hang out as friends. Which would involve one of them admitting they wanted to hang out, and that is just never going to happen.

So she shows up to help with his class events as a second faculty member, which is excusable but also a little weird, and way too much work, honestly.

"Shouldn't they be doing the set up?" she grumbles.

"They'll show up eventually. I don't want this to fall through and they decide that it's not worth doing shit."

"At what point do you teach them that you won't do shit for them?"

"Once they have a taste of success. Gotta get them hooked first."

"Yeah, let me know how that works out for you."

There's a pause, and then he says, "Thanks for helping out, by the way."

"I'm not going to owe you after this. You might owe _me_."

"Hamilton," he says.

"Yeah. But still."

She doesn't actually mean it; she doesn't actually _mind_ doing favors for Bellamy, but she doesn't want him to figure that out. Even if they're probably even, she wishes they weren't. Because as long as she owes him or he owes her, they've got a reason to hang out. They'll _keep_ having reasons to hang out.

Apparently, she's never satisfied.

Which is the excuse she has for the craft fair.

The first weekend of October, the school has a fall craft fair, which was Clarke's idea, and therefore became her responsibility. It's broadly a good thing, and something she _likes_. She has a bunch of local artists who come every year and are pretty easy to wrangle, and generally even gets a few college kids to come sell stuff. If some of the student tables go unused, she and Lincoln just bring extra work of their own to fill them, and everyone always enjoys it. Soshe's always happy to have done it, but she knows she's a nightmare person for a couple weeks leading up to the event itself. She's just come to accept it. 

Bellamy usually shows up to the fair, stops by her table to chat with her and buys at least one thing from both her and Lincoln, and something from any students of his who are selling, and then wanders off, which is what Clarke assumes will happen this year. She's even looking forward to that specifically, which is pathetic, but that's where she's currently at.

Instead, Lincoln gets sick on the Thursday before the fair, and when Lincoln gets sick, he really _means_ sick, running a fever and vaguely delirious and still trying to go to school until Octavia tells him he's not allowed to. So Clarke can't even try to guilt him into coming to help her, because he actually _would_ , and then she'd feel like an asshole.

Honestly, she probably _could_ handle it alone. It would take a while, but she could do it. The setup isn't terrible, and the biggest reason she still has Lincoln help is that it's _boring_. If she found a good Pandora station to blast, she'd be fine, really.

But she could also just ask Bellamy, and once the thought occurs to her, she knows she's going to. She tells herself she's thinking about it, but as soon as lunch comes around, she's in his room, watching him lean over his desk. She's never seen him not surrounded by a pile of paperwork that she can remember.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

"Drinking myself into a stupor. Why?"

"Lincoln's sick, I could use some help setting up the gym for the craft fair. I'll buy you pizza."

"Is that the going rate for setup help now?" he asks. "I don't get another favor?"

"Do you need one?"

He shrugs. "I fed you when you helped me out, so I don't think that counts. And I can always use a favor."

In spite of herself, Clarke finds her mouth twitching. He's cute. "Fine, I'll owe you one _and_ buy you dinner. Happy?"

"Deliriously. When do you need me?"

"I can't set up the gym until after practices are done, so--like five-thirty? And then in the morning to help out the vendors, if you don't mind."

"This polite thing is weird," he says. He looks up at her, actually _smiles_ , something kind with no edge at all. It knocks the breath out of her for a second. "I don't mind, Clarke. Just tell me when you need me."

"Tonight at five-thirty, tomorrow morning at seven-thirty."

"Sure. And then after for cleanup?"

"Probably not. I can usually rope some students into doing it. They actually do work for pizza."

"Like I said, I don't mind. I'm sure I'll figure out something else I need your help with."

"That makes me feel better." She bites her lip. "But really. Thanks. I'll see you tonight."

"Are you just hanging out after school?" he asks, sudden, before she can leave.

"Probably, yeah. I'll enter grades or something until I can fix up the gym."

He nods. "I'll bring my grading down to your room. If I'm not going home, I at least want company."

There's no rational reason to be excited or nervous or _anything_ about that, of all things, but--she likes him. She likes spending time with him. It's getting harder and harder to tell herself that none of it means anything, and if she was smart, she wouldn't be doing this at all.

But she doesn't feel like she ever sees enough of him, these days. She doesn't think it's possible to see enough of him, and she doesn't want to think about it. Not when she could just be hanging out with him. So it's exciting. Of course it's exciting. And it's kind of fun. To be excited again.

He sits at one of the tables in her room with his feet up for a couple hours after school, only exchanging a few words with her, but it still feels companionable. And since his head is always down, he never actually catches her looking at him from the corner of her eye.

The regret sets in once they're in the gym and Bellamy strips off his tie and shirt, leaving him in a white undershirt that's just as good for his arms as all his t-shirts, but also kind of see-through. Between him and Lincoln, a lot of impressionable students are going to have unrealistic expectations about how hot their teachers should be.

"So, what am I doing?" he asks, when she doesn't manage to say anything. Anyone would be distracted for a minute, she's pretty sure. It's not her fault.

She shakes herself back to attention. "Um, I've got the layout here. We just need to move the gym stuff out and put the tables up. I'll put up signs and stuff tomorrow."

"Sure."

It goes faster than it usually does with Lincoln, to her surprise. She and Bellamy are a good team, work quickly and efficiently, and it's actually _fun_. He starts telling stories about his new AP kids, and she responds in kind, and when they finish up after only a couple hours she says, "We could probably just go grab dinner somewhere. Instead of ordering something. No reason to eat in a high-school gym, right?"

He freezes, and for a second she's nervous, but then he asks, "Do you have a kitchen table?"

"What?"

"I hate going out to eat. I'm always afraid a student will see me. Or be working at the restaurant. I don't actually have a table in my apartment, but if you do--"

"You don't have a table?" she asks. It's hard to not get stuck on that.

"Okay, I have one, but it's shitty. Just a card table I pull out when I need it. I don't do a lot of entertaining." He rubs the back of his neck. "Or we could go out, but--"

"I don't really want to deal with students gossiping if they see us," Clarke says. "And I do have a table. So, yeah. Come over."

He's never actually been to her place, which shouldn't really be a surprise. She's never been to his either. They're not really that kind of friends. But it would be nice if this was the first step to it.

She stops in to pick up takeout on the way back and finds a senior she vaguely knows at the counter, which makes her feel better about the whole not eating out thing, and still makes it back to her place before Bellamy, who decided to stop at his own apartment for non-work clothes. She picks up enough that she won't be embarrassed to have him see anything, which luckily isn't too hard, gets changed herself, and then tries not to be nervous.

It's Bellamy. He is her coworker and her friend. They've known each other for years. Her best friend is engaged to his sister. There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about with him coming to her apartment. 

Or there isn't until she opens the door and sees him there, hair tousled and smile shy, and she pulls him down and kisses him.

It's not like she doesn't know she's doing it. Kissing someone, in Clarke's experience, is always a conscious decision, and this one has been coming for a while. It's terrifying because doing something like this is always terrifying, but somehow kissing him felt like a better option, in this moment, than having a conversation. If she's going to crash and burn, she'd rather do it decisively.

But Bellamy's hand slides into her hair, cradling her head, and his mouth is warm and firm against hers, returning the kiss instantly, _eagerly_ , and the tension drops out of her. She tugs on him at the same time he pushes her back, and she hears the door closing distantly, like she's underwater. All she can focus on is Bellamy, the perfect press of his body against hers, the slide of his tongue as she opens her mouth for him. He groans, turns them around so he can push her up against the door, hands pushing up her shirt. She's honestly wondering if he's going to fuck her right here and kind of hoping he will when someone slams the door to her building and he startles away, mouth swollen, eyes dark. It might be the hottest thing she's ever seen.

"Uh," he starts, and clears his throat. "Sorry?"

She has to laugh. Her fingers creep around his neck to play with his hair. "Sorry for what? I kissed you. Don't tell me you're sorry I did."

"Fuck, no." He laughs too, and his mouth finds hers again, just for a second. "I got carried away," he murmurs.

"I was clearly really upset about it."

"Yeah, but--I was trying to be romantic."

"When?"

"Generally. I'm shitty at it." His thumb rubs against her jaw. "I, uh--I really like you. A lot. I wanted to do this, uh. Right, I guess. Which usually doesn't involve shoving you up against a wall to make out."

"If that's not part of doing it right, I don't know why you'd bother," she says. But it's cute, so she leans up to peck him one more time before she ducks out of his arms. "But you're right. We should at least eat dinner first."

They end up on her couch, even though she has a perfectly good table, because she usually eats on the couch, and it just feels better, putting her feet up and leaning into Bellamy's side to eat takeout. The table is so _formal_. And she likes being relaxed with him.

"So, you were romancing me?" she asks, once they're settled.

"I figured I could eventually leverage one of the favors you owed me into a date. I'm chaperoning the homecoming dance. I could have made you come."

"Did you go to any of your high-school dances? They're not romantic when you're in high school, let alone when you're chaperoning."

His laugh is a little off, and she bumps her shoulder against his, just to make him smile. "I figured it was a step up from actively antagonizing you," he says.

"I like being antagonized," she says. "When you're fun about it."

"Yeah, well, you kissed me, so I guess I was doing something right."

"Your workout routine, mostly." Then she thinks better of it, because he might actually believe her. "I like you a lot, okay? You don't need to romance me any more. I'm romanced. Please don't ask me to chaperone homecoming with you."

"It'll be fun."

"You know it won't."

"If you're not into chaperoning shit with me, I honestly have no idea how to make this happen. That's my only move." He gives her another shy smile, and she's honestly kind of glad he already shoved her up against her door, or she'd worry he would want to take it slow. As it is, she's pretty sure all she needs to do is climb into his lap and he'll be happy to make out all night. "I was going to ask you to come to Hamilton," he says. "I think O thought I'd chicken out. That's probably why she told you."

"You talked this plan through with your sister?" she asks. He's _adorable_. She's definitely keeping him.

"Someone had to make fun of me."

"Yeah, that's obviously a top priority." She takes his empty plate and puts it on the table, cupping his cheek so she can kiss him again. As she expected, his response isn't shy at all; he tugs her into him, kissing back eagerly, hands sliding up her back. 

She can definitely get laid.

"Seriously, Clarke, I'm going to wake up at 6:30 on a Saturday to help you out. You owe me one. You should be coming to homecoming with me."

"Uh huh," she agrees, settling more comfortably into his lap. "But you're going to wake up when I get up anyway, so it's not like it's a big deal."

She can see him swallow. "I am?"

"Unless you're a really heavy sleeper, yeah." She leans down, kisses him long and deep. "Or you don't want to stay. I'm not going to be offended. But if you're going to help out anyway--"

"Jesus, I didn't think this was going to work," he says, laughing.

"Girls love Hamilton tickets," she says, mock-serious. "That's all you needed."

"Couldn't have told me that nine months ago?" he grumbles, and she just grins.

"Come on, Bellamy. Wait for it."

*

She chaperones homecoming, with him, of course. He's her boyfriend and she loves him. It gives him an unfortunate amount of power over her, but he uses it for good most of the time, and only occasionally to convince her to go to dances she really doesn't want to go to. 

"Is this when I say I told you so?" Lincoln asks. She's not sure why he's chaperoning. Maybe Bellamy also has too much power over him, because of Octavia. Or maybe Bellamy's just very persuasive, when he's not being awkward. Stranger things have happened.

"Are we pretending you haven't already told me you told me so?" she asks. "You've told me that every day for the last month."

"Yes, but I haven't told you _today_. I can't stress enough how difficult it was for me to be hearing Octavia complaining about how Bellamy was in love with you and you complaining about how you were--however you felt about him."

"I guess I hadn't thought about how much my love life pained you."

"I understand that you had other things going on."

"Like my actual love life." She smiles, watching Bellamy chatting with a couple of the students from the GSA. She still remembers when he came out to her, back when she first started and was arguing with some asshole PE teacher who didn't think bisexuality was a real orientation. She had no real impression of him, aside from knowing he was also new, and Lincoln was freaking out because he was Octavia's brother, and Octavia's brother was overprotective and surly.

But he'd interrupted the gym teacher, and said, without looking up, "I'm bi too, it's definitely a thing. But don't worry, you're not my type."

The guy had been so shocked, he'd shut up, and Clarke had tried to flash Bellamy a grateful smile, but he was still looking at his book.

He's her favorite. She really should have noticed sooner.

"You told me so," Clarke agrees. "I owe you one."

"Really," says Lincoln. "There's no need. I don't have to track favors. Like I said, this is all part of a normal friendship. I don't want to get involved."

Bellamy catches her eye and grins; Clarke grins back, pats Lincoln on the shoulder. "Fine. But you don't know what you're missing."


End file.
